Hash 1229

Where are we running from tonight? The Whip at Lacey Green is a nice pub, good hashing territory, though limited parking. Mental note to self, must make an effort to get there early for a change. Best laid plans and all that stuff - every one had the same idea so when I arrived early the cars were already lined up half way to The Pink and Lily.

Our two and a half hares for the evening Helen, Aaron and Poppy called the assembled horde together to remind us why it is exactly we drag ourselves out every Tuesday night. Aaron stated the long was an honest 5½ and the shorts an honest 3½, can this be true - an honest hare? There's a first time for everything I surpose.

The GM introduced some virgin hashers but became very excited when he learned one was named "Dimples", it looked for a moment likely that he would have to be physically restrained to stop him finding out how she came by her name, the by now terrified-looking girl was saved any further embarrassment by Helen calling the on on and pointing the hash in the right direction; honest and helpful hares, this is just too good to be true!

On on was down Loosley Hill, the emphasis on down, before turning left into open countryside and an early long/short split. I assume the shorts just had to go straight back up the hill we had just come down; as for the longs, the going from here was officially soft and under normal circumstances would have had the pack moaning like crazy - but thanks to last week's shiggy survival boot camp training not a murmur of discontent was heard.  The route continued to descend lower to the valley floor which could only have one of two outcomes; a level run into High Wycombe and a bus back to the pub, or we are going to have to do some serious climbing.  Honest, helpful and compassionate hares would have been too much to hope for.

Bradenham Woods was our chosen ascent - which the hash doesn't have a good track record of navigating, having got lost here on more than one occasion, (the hash having a collective directional sense of stampeding wildebeest).  Hells Bells managed to keep the pack moving in the right direction (a task as frustrating as trying to herd cats) by sprinting to the front to vigorously enforce the back arrows.

Once out of the woods it was a north turn back towards Lacey Green, just the small matter of a very poached Grim's Ditch to deal with, was honest Aaron as good as his word? A right turn to Darvillshill before another steep descent into Turnip End soon put paid to any ideas of an early beer - just the long steady slog up Highwood Bottom to Kiln Lane and we didn't even have Gerry with us to frighten the virgins with tales of witches buried under rocks and drowned servant girls.

Just one last shiggy field to slip through before the on inn, well, I say shiggy, it had the consistency of sloppy shiggy but definitely not the colour or smell.

The Whip had its usual extensive range of real ales to deliberate over, plus Hells and Aaron had laid on a cunning game of chip jenga where roast potatoes are buried under piles of chips. As for "Honest guv, 5½ miles" Aaron, Endomondo results ranged from 6.41 to 7.01.